


one more good deed

by subjectiveobjection



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subjectiveobjection/pseuds/subjectiveobjection
Summary: who crowley was before the Fall, and who he was during it.





	one more good deed

Raphael likes the darkness. The sky is like a shroud of blankets covering him, a place where he can sit and observe all the angels below. They go in their preformed circles, doing whatever the Almighty tells them to do, like the Earth on its orbit.

When the Almighty creates Adam and Eve, they do  _ not _ go in their preformed circles. They double back, forge forwards, sidestep and dodge, and generally do their best to avoid doing what all the angels expect of them. Raphael tries to predict what the humans will do next, but it’s stunningly hard.

Occasionally, Aziraphale will join him, up in space, and they watch the Almighty’s favorite creation in silence. On those occasions, Raphael will pull some material from the Void, and wrap it around their shoulders.

After some time (or maybe before some time, depending on what the Almighty is feeling like that day), the Almighty comes to Raphael. “It is too dark for them, Raphael,” she says. Raphael is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. He hadn’t thought of that when he had watched them, fumbling around in the inky blackness. The Almighty disappears as quick as she had come, and Raphael wonders what he can do to make it brighter.

He looks down his wing, noting the luminescence of the feathers, and on a whim, he pulls a feather out. It  _ hurts, _ more than anything that he’d felt before, but now he has a source of light.  _ A star, _ he decides.  _ It will be called a star. _

He scatters his feathers all through the cosmos, and he says nothing when he notices a different type of feather- shorter and fluffier than his own, exactly like the feathers of a certain Principality- appear in certain places, especially around Earth. The feathers float through space- or maybe space floats through the feathers- creating drifting pinpricks of white light.

_ There aren’t enough colors, _ Raphael thinks. His wings are almost plucked bare, and it will take a while (if time continues its current progression, otherwise he has no clue how long it will take) for them to regenerate their feathers. And anyways, his wings have no color in them.

He looks down at his veins, which swirl with blue and red and green and purple, and he decides. He plucks one feather out of the cosmos, and the sharp point cuts through his skin with ease. Ichor flows out, multicolored drops lighting up the sky. He rolls one of the drops between his fingers, and he tosses it at a nebula.

The ichor coats every feather, turning the whole star system a glorious combination of purple and green. Raphael feels giddy exhilaration shoot through him at the sight, and he picks up another drop and throws it. Reds and blues explode across a galaxy (and down in Heaven, they all wonder what that crazy bastard is doing- all but Aziraphale, who leaves, and makes his way to Alpha Centauri to meet Raphael).

Raphael looks down at his skin and seals it tight, keeping the remaining ichor safely within. The universe is splashed with color, and his job is done. “Wait,” comes a voice from behind him.

“Aziraphale?” Raphael asks. “What’re you-”

“I’m trying something,” Aziraphale says. He takes his halo off, and the golden light nearly blinds Raphael. Aziraphale rubs his hand across the circlet, and when his hand comes away, it’s covered with sparkling dust. “If I may…”

“Go ahead,” Raphael says, his eyebrows raised.

Aziraphale brings his hand to his mouth and slowly blows the dust off. It flies through the air leisurely, coming to rest on top of the stars across the cosmos, making them even more dazzling. Aziraphale fixes the halo on top of his head once more and smiles, a little hesitant. “It’s not much, but I thought…”

“It’s perfect,” Raphael says. He doesn’t think that he could be any happier.

…

The Almighty approaches Raphael. “Lord,” Raphael says, bowing.

“Raphael,” the Almighty replies. “The humans can see now.” Raphael has to crane his neck to see, but he thinks that She is smiling. “You went above and beyond.”

He doesn’t know whether to feel pride or apprehension, because Her tone suggests that something terrible is going to happen. “Thank you, Lord.”

“Raphael, I have decided to create a  _ day.” _

_ What does this have to do with me? _ Raphael wonders. “What is a day?”

“It’s time,” the Almighty says. “I think that the universe shall proceed on a linear scale from now on. Well, not quite a linear scale, but… enough of one.”

“Lord, why are you telling me this?”

“I’ve cast out Lucifer,” She says. The words hit Raphael like a blow- Lucifer, his sibling, God’s favored, the original light of heaven-  _ gone. _ “And I think that you should go too.”

Raphael feels like someone has taken his wings and ripped them from his body. “What? Why?”

The Almighty crouches down, and Her smile is tainted by pain. “I  _ love _ these humans, and you do too. And Lucifer does not. I need you to protect them. Give them free will. Let them  _ choose _ Heaven, instead of your brother’s damning light, because if they  _ choose _ good of their own volition, even when the Morning Star tells them otherwise, they will be a thousand times better than Heaven could ever be.” Her smile falters. “You will be remade, Crawley.”

_ Who’s Crawley? _ Raphael wonders.

“Fall of your own volition, Crawley.”

“Why?” The question comes bursting out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“Because I believe in you.”

It’s nowhere near a proper answer, but it’s good enough for him. He’s pulled off his feathers for humans, bled for them, created their Sun- what’s one more good deed?

He nods, and he takes off his halo and drops it. The ground drops from beneath his feet, and he plummets through the clouds, paralyzed. Fire burns around him, scorching his skin and searing his wings, and if he squints, he can pretend that it’s the glow that his feathers give off. The pain is greater than anything he’s ever known, but as he Falls, the one thing he thinks about is how he never got to say goodbye to Aziraphale. He holds onto the memory of the angel, choosing to remember Aziraphale instead of his own name, until the fire burns him into submission.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading! kudos/comments/criticism always appreciated :))) my tumblr is @acanoftrash if u want to drop a line


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